


Checkup

by Toejones



Series: Remembering [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes Is Tough, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Did I mention amputation, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Gen, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Memory Loss, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Torture, Past Violence, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Is Not a Medical Doctor, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toejones/pseuds/Toejones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No easy way to say it,” Tony shrugged, his face dark. “It’s like an amputation. Your nerves and part of your bone are all connected to it."</p><p>Bucky nodded stiffly with a deep breath. He licked his lips, squared his shoulders. His eyes were steely. He looked like he did when they were kids right before a fight he knew they were going to lose.</p><p>“When do you have to take it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checkup

>>Good evening, Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes, it has been rather a long time.<<

 “Hello JARVIS,” Steve replied, compelled to be polite back. He shielded his eyes against the too-bright porch lamp in the dusky evening darkness. “Is Tony home?”

>>Yes, sir. I will let him know you’re at the door.<<

There was a sudden, deafening rock n’ roll version of _The Star-Spangled Banner_ over the PA system. Steve brought a hand to his forehead and kneaded firmly, closing his eyes. It was certainly a step up from _Ice, Ice, Baby_ , which had been the previous choice. He turned to Bucky, expecting confusion or a disgruntled frown at best. What he found was Bucky fighting down a fit of laughter, a grin wobbling on his pursed lips. Steve sighed and shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

It was actually Bruce that answered the door, to Steve’s only mild surprise. He was a bit rumpled; his hair in a mess, dressed in what looked like pajama pants and a grey t-shirt. His glasses sat askew over the dark circles that meant he hadn’t slept in a week. A mug of coffee was in one hand, a touch tablet in the other, and a surprised expression graced his face.

As soon as the door unlatched the music stopped and Bruce waved awkwardly with the fingers of the hand that held the coffee. Bucky’s smile faded at the sight of him, leaving behind only a faint flush on his cheeks. Bruce blinked rapidly a few times at the sight of Bucky, but didn’t seem concerned otherwise.

“Hey there, Cap. Uh, Jam- B… Mr. Barnes,” Bruce stuttered.

“Bucky’s fine, Dr. Banner,” Bucky replied with a small wave of his own.

“Bucky,” Bruce nodded. “Call me Bruce.”

Steve sometimes forgot that a lot of the team had spent very little time around Bucky, particularly Bruce who spent little time with anybody save for Tony and Pepper (and sometimes Jane, Darcy, and Dr. Selvig when they were around). Steve had probably seen Bruce ten times total in the last year, and Bruce had only seen Bucky three or four times ever, this visit included.

 “Oh, um!” Bruce snapped into a stiff posture, stepping aside and gesturing into the front room. “Sorry. Come on in, guys.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. Bucky reached back to lock the rental car with the remote.

>>Ms. Potts would like to know if you have eaten dinner,<< JARVIS said as soon as they were over the threshold and Bruce had shut the door.

“We did,” Steve replied. Their layover hadn’t been long enough to get anything, but they’d eaten burgers on the fly on the way to LaGuardia around 2:00 and dinner on the way to Tony’s remote house from the airport just an hour or so ago.

 >>Very good, sir. Let me know if there is anything else you require.<<

Steve was never sure whether to thank it or not.

Bruce took away his choice by asking, “What brings you guys all the way out here? Aren’t you living in New York now?”

“Yeah, we got an apartment in Manhattan back in November. We’re here to see Tony,” Steve replied. “We have something he needs to look at.”

Bruce nodded. “He’s been down in the lab all day working on who-knows-what. Pepper’s getting ready to fly out for a business meeting in DC, so I’ve, uh, been helping her get ready for that.” He tapped the edge of the tablet in his hand.

“Oh, that’s… neat,” Steve nodded, trying not to seem disinterested or pushy. “What’s the project?”

“Classified,” Bruce muttered, staring down at the screen for a moment longer before locking it and looking up. “She’s going to spend the rest of the week in New York at the tower overseeing the prototype creation if DC goes well, so Tony will probably welcome your company. He’s sulking.”

 He made the gesture for them to follow him and took the main flight of stairs down into another main room with a bar and an entire wall of windows, in typical Stark fashion. They looked out over a private beach, a few hundred yards away and two floors up from the black waves. Bruce didn’t even glance, forcing Steve to take up his pace once more as Bruce pressed the button to an elevator door. He was silent for the duration, as was Bucky, and it left Steve feeling ill at ease, used to conversation from the both of them individually.

Finally the elevator stopped with a quiet sound and the doors dinged as they swished open. In the small room they opened into, there was a frosted glass wall, just opaque enough to leave details out while giving them a general idea of what lay beyond. Bruce pressed his thumb to the glass by the door handle, and a green light blinked under his finger as the door opened inwards. Bruce rapped his knuckles against it anyway, delicate and polite.

A huge room full of anything Steve could possibly imagine when thinking of engineering was exposed, a familiar song by a band Tony liked playing loudly over the sound system. Steve had been ‘here’ before, both in Tony’s drowned house down in Miami for uniform and gear tune-ups, and in Stark Tower back in September to get Bucky’s arm fixed the first time. It hadn’t changed much in its reincarnations, but there were substantially fewer suit prototypes hanging about here than at the old house and it was messier than the Tower. Despite all that, the scent of metal, oil, and rubber was just as strong and familiar as the tune.

The strangely comforting weight Steve associated with Tony settled in his chest along with the bass from the song, distracting him from the anxiety associated with the reason for their visit. Even with their tendency to bicker, Steve had grown very fond of the younger Stark, fonder even than he’d been of the older one. Plus, it had been a while since he’d seen him.

Bruce stepped in after he received no reply, and held open the door. Steve thanked him and followed over the threshold. Bucky cautiously did the same, slumping and grabbing Steve’s wrist. His whole posture broadcasted his discomfort as his eyes darted around, his sneakers squeaking as he reluctantly shuffled his feet. Bucky had been here before, too.

 

_“This is amazing,” Tony gushed._

_He was practically caressing Bucky’s arm and very nearly drooling. His thumb ran over the scraped up red star on Bucky’s shoulder. His fingers felt out the seams between the different metal pieces. He fanned at himself, his typical and familiar theatrics a welcome balm to Steve’s stress of the last out-of-the-ordinary couple of weeks._

_“I mean- this is. Cap. Where and why have you been hiding your guy- and more importantly, his arm? It’s straight off the Sci-Fi channel,” he was breathless. His clean fingers made a high pitched sound across the scraped metal._

_> >Sir, I am detecting six explosive devices, three tracking units, and four separate chemical compounds in the device, one of which is currently being pumped into his bloodstream,<< JARVIS announced. >>I suggest relocating to the explosives testing room if you plan on continuing your inspection.<<_

_Tony sighed. “Killjoy,” he muttered._

_“What?!” was all Steve could manage, his voice going up an octave or two._

_Bucky was still and eerily compliant between him and Tony, considering he was standing shirtless and weaponless in a strange place, being prodded at. His eyes were trained on Tony, half-lidded and strangely focused all at once. It was still hard to see any Bucky in him past his face and the fact that he didn’t want to leave Steve’s side._

_“Give me your arm,” Tony sad to Bucky, reading something off to the side on a hovering screen. He held out his hand, calloused palm open skyward. His fingers wiggled insistently._

_Bucky didn’t hesitate to put his arm straight out, making a fist with his hand._

_“Gracias,” Tony said. Bucky squinted at him with a slight frown._

_Surprisingly tender, Tony took Bucky’s hand between his palms. He moved Bucky’s fingers so his hand was open flat. His face was the same one Steve had seen him wear when he’d shown pictures of Pepper’s new niece, holding a phone obnoxiously close to Steve’s nose with an instant ‘Look, look, look.’_

_“You look familiar,” Bucky said distantly._

_His words broke the silence that had fallen as Tony inspected his wrist, rotating it this way and that. Tony looked up from his work only briefly in acknowledgment of it, but Steve’s entire body stiffened. Bucky rarely initiated conversation, even with him._

_“Who are you?” he titled his head, some stray hair falling in his eyes from the hastily gathered ponytail Natasha had done in the car. His eyes were a little livelier, almost curious, as he stared at Tony’s lowered head._

_“You can call me Tony,” he replied distractedly, running his thumbs along the grooves in the metal and pressing them into joints. “Or ‘Sexy’, if that’s your style. I’m one of your guy’s friends.” He tapped at the place where palm met wrist with a screwdriver he pulled from his back pocket, nodding at Steve with a little smile._

_“This is Anthony Stark. We knew his father. Remember Howard?” Steve asked, placing a careful hand on Bucky’s warm shoulder. Bucky let loose a full-body shudder and Steve jerked it away._

_“Yes,” he bit out. His shudder didn’t stop, tapering off into a fine tremble that extended into his metal arm. His eyes stared at nothing on the floor._

_“Stop shivering,” Tony grumbled, “Why are you shivering? It’s like eighty in here. Stop- I can’t focus. Cap- make him stop it.”_

_“I shot his front tire.”_

_The screwdriver fell to the floor with a clank._

 

A machine in a dunce hat raced up to Bruce with a tray held at just above his waist level. Bruce took up the piece of paper on the tray, juggling it in the hand that held his tablet. He glanced at the ragged notebook paper once, wrinkled his nose, and called out, “Tony?” His voice was nearly drowned by the music and the ambient sounds; electricity humming and mechanical things whirring.

“Hunnh?” came the reply, echoing off the walls. The music cut out.

“Visitors,” Bruce said, quieter.

“Not today,” Tony replied. There was a crash as something baseball-sized flew across the lab and into a bucket of what looked like bolts sitting on top of a tall metal cabinet. It fell to the ground with a deafening symphony of metal hitting metal.

“Didn’t you hear the doorbell?” Bruce asked, unfazed, putting the paper back down. “The mistake is on the third line,” he added.

“Ah, that explains it,” Tony held up a thumbs-up, his hand just becoming visible over the lines and lines of metal cabinets and drawers that surrounded the center. The dunce machine hurried back through the room towards him, disappearing behind cabinets. “And yeah, I heard it.”

“It’s Steve,” Bruce pressed. He followed the robot through the maze the tool chests created like walls. Steve hesitated briefly before grabbing Bucky’s right hand and dragging him after.

“Mmm-hmmm I know,” Tony hummed.

“Bar- er- Bucky’s here, too!” Bruce was starting to sound as annoyed as Steve was beginning to feel.

“Not today. Whatever it is, not today. Even for Jack and Ennis. I have a thing to do, so many things actually. Important-” he stopped speaking as he heard their footsteps stop.

He was jamming a potato into the barrel of a giant spud cannon.

Steve glowered, putting a little more into it because he didn’t understand the reference and he was pretty sure it was offensive. Tony at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed. It lasted all of two seconds before he cleared his throat loudly and stood from his perch on a stool. Buckets full of potatoes of every kind surrounded him and the table was littered with carefully divided screws, pipes, and other pieces. He was wearing pajama pants similar to Bruce’s and beat up sneakers that looked like they’d had acid spilled on them more than once. His wife beater wasn’t in a much better state.

He scratched the back of his head. “This is important.”

“Stark,” Steve began with a heavy sigh. He took his hand from Bucky’s and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, don’t get huffy, Cap! You didn’t call ahead,” Tony snapped petulantly.

“I did, actually. You never answer your phone,” it lacked energy; Steve _was_ imposing, to be fair. He let some of his irritation dissipate with a roll of his eyes. “I called Pepper. I’m sure she told you. I’m also sure you don’t remember her telling you.”

“Pfft, that’s fair,” Tony’s grin was fond. “So what’s uuuuu…” Tony’s face fell as he really looked up for the first time, the smirk he’d been putting on fading. He came around the table with concern on his face, leaving the spud cannon leaning against the table.

“What?” Steve backed up a step, automatically guarded when Tony looked at anything that way. However, Tony bypassed him, bypassed Bucky, and grabbed the coffee in Bruce’s hand before bypassing him too. He went to a screen behind them and began studying it closely, taking a gulp of the coffee.

“Blech,” he said, making a face. “I don’t take sugar.”

“I know. That was mine,” Bruce’s shoulders slumped. He was ignored.

“Tony, please,” Steve huffed, turning his body so his eyes could follow Tony as he started touching the screen and shifting data around on it. “We need you to-”

Tony held up a hand to silence him.

Steve took a step forward, fully intent on getting his message across, imposing or not. It was an emergency, and he’d earned certain liberties with Tony, the way he saw it. A hand around his forearm stopped him. He turned to see Bucky looking almost scared, his eyes gone faraway and hard. He was staring at the back of Tony’s head. That, more than Tony’s rudeness, upset him. It was a different brand of upset, though; the kind that made Steve lose his will to fight rather than amplify it. He stepped back to Bucky’s side and went reluctantly silent. Bucky released his arm but remained close.

Tony turned on his heel just a minute later, stalking quickly back towards them. He had a tablet Steve hadn’t seen him pick up three inches from his face. He squinted at it and walked blindly, clumsily handing Bruce back his coffee and almost spilling it as he passed. He only looked up as he came up to Bucky. Bucky squirmed as he stared back down.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, Bucky’s still fearful and Tony’s buried under a furrowed brow. Tony nodded shortly at him, a white flag, and held out the hand that wasn’t gripping his tablet. A knowing look crossed Bucky’s face, softening his features. He reached up and put his arm out, dragging the sleeve of his sweatshirt up to his elbow. Tony grabbed Bucky’s wrist and pulled it so his hand was palm-up, his arm straight out.

“Well no wonder you’re here,” Tony frowned, reaching out behind himself suddenly with the hand holding the tablet, shoving it violently at Bruce. Bruce took it with a glower before tossing it on the nearest surface without a glance. Tony’s newly freed hand reached around and pulled a penlight out of his back pocket. He shined it down at Bucky’s wrist, tugging him closer and bringing it up towards his chin to examine it. “You shoulda come in ages ago.”

“Huh?” Bucky’s asked distractedly, staring at Tony’s grease-stained fingers.

“Can you take this off?” Tony asked, pinching at the fabric bunched at Bucky’s elbow.

Bucky nodded and moved back. He stripped out of his hoodie and stood holding it so the sleeves hit the floor, looking at Tony expectantly.

“Shirt, too.”

With an only slightly irritated huff of breath, Bucky wormed his way out of his t-shirt also, a little bit red around his ears when he handed both articles of clothing to Steve. Steve took them and folded them before draping them over his arm, still warm and smelling like airports and Bucky.

 “You’ve lost a little sensation in the arm, right?” Tony asked, nearly mumbling as they he took Bucky’s hand, pressing his thumbs into the places where fingers met palm.

Bucky looked surprised. He hesitated before nodding once. Steve bristled. Bucky hadn’t told him that.

Tony nodded back as if he knew that’d be the answer. “Can you feel this?” he squeezed his hand.

 Bucky nodded, squinting at their hands curiously.

“This?” he lightly trailed his finger over Bucky’s middle fingertip.

Bucky shook his head. Tony nodded again, distracted. He chewed on his lip, uncharacteristically apprehensive.

“What?” Steve asked, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward.

“I’m-” Tony sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He dropped Bucky’s hand. He gestured helplessly. “I’m gonna have to remove the arm.”

 

_Steve froze from where he was pressing a wet cloth to Bucky’s split lip. He turned to stare down Tony, who was holding ice against the knuckles on his right hand. “What do you mean painful?”_

_“No easy way to say it,” Tony shrugged, his face dark. “It’s like an amputation. His nerves and part of his bone are all,” he gestured vaguely at his own arm, “connected to it. They must have had more arm at the beginning than they kept, if JARVIS’s scans are right.”_

_> >They are, sir.<<_

_“Jesus,” Steve breathed, pulling back the bloody rag from Bucky’s mouth. He finished wiping the blood from under his nose and set the rag down on the table Bucky was sitting on. Bucky watched his hands vacantly, seemingly disinterested in the conversation or his own injuries._

_“I’ll have to call in a few favors, and a few doctors since we have to do it here,” Tony said._

_“Jesus,” Steve repeated._

_“Also, we can’t use any anesthetic. I have no idea how it will react with what the arm’s already dosing him with, and it could mess things up if any of the other chemicals in there are accidentally released into his bloodstream while we’re disconnecting.”_

_“Is- Exactly how painful is it going to be?” Steve asked. Tony’s raised brows told him all he needed to know._

_“Not like I feel… that bad,” Tony pointed out unnecessarily, kicking at the ground. His mouth twisted, his brows twitched, and Steve could tell he was lying, putting on a show because he_ wanted _to be angry and childish about the situation. Tony was a lot of things, but cruel wasn’t one of them. Even after the three swiftly delivered punches, Steve found it hard to be mad at Tony, all things considered._

Steve felt what the commandos used to call his ‘Bucky alarm’ kick in, panic rising up into his throat. Even in the next room over with Natasha, Steve had heard Bucky scream last time. He shifted uneasily to dispel some of the energy and tried to keep his breathing even, his Vans squeaking against the rubber mat under his feet. Bruce muttered something about coffee and excused himself, shuffling off and out of sight.

“S…same as last time?” Bucky asked, his voice small.

“Weeeeeell,” Tony winced a little. “Good news and bad news. Which one first?”

“Good?” Bucky shrugged a little.

“Well, we can use anesthetic to knock you out this time,” his smile was cogently bright and Bucky offered a small echo of one in return. Steve felt himself relax just a touch.

“The bad?” Steve asked, a little too forcefully. Bucky glanced at him, frowning. Tony took a breath, fidgeting with his penlight.

 “I told you both back when I disarmed him,” he didn’t point out the potential pun and Steve knew it was bad then, “that the arm might not function right without all the parts we ripped out. There was a lot of complicated connections and we fixed it all up the best we could to run with the empty spots, but it looks like the extra wear on the benign parts is taking its toll. It would have been better if you’d have just let me and the doctors make you a new one the first time.”

 

_“Why don’t you want a new one?” Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “I can give you one that looks like an actual arm.”_

_“This is an actual arm,” Bucky replied, staring down at his hand blankly. “I was given this arm. It is my arm and I like it.”_

_“Oooooookay, Freezerburn. That’s some fuckin’ crazy, brainwashed bullshit, but what do I care? Get over here so I can figure out how to fix this ancient piece of shit, then.”_

 

“Um,” Bucky squirmed. “What does that mean now?”

 “Here,” Tony said, leaning in. “Let me see your shoulder.”

 

_“Don’t touch that,” Bucky’s voice was like a brick wall that halted Tony’s hands in their path. “They…” he frowned and shrunk back, the most expressive he’d been all day. “They hurt.”_

_“I have to look at it,” Tony snapped. His usually warm eyes were steely when they looked at Bucky. He moved to touch Bucky’s scarred shoulder again. “Stay still and shut up.”_

_Something about the words sucked the little life there was out of Bucky’s face. He set his jaw and looked straight ahead, his spine ramrod straight as Tony roughly pressed his fingers into the skin._

Bucky was frowning deeply, his eyes cast down to the floor. His head leaned away from his left and his shoulders were set stiff enough that the muscles on his back stood out. His right fist clenched and unclenched at his side.

Tony’s fingers were infinitely careful, their movements clinical and slow, as they pressed at the rough seam. His voice was low and the most disturbed Steve had ever heard it when he said, “Whoever made this death trap really didn’t want it off you.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky muttered bitterly. Tony half-smiled up at him, eyes bleeding sympathy. He straightened his spine with a pop and sighed.

 “Simply speaking…” Tony began at length, “When we drained all the chemicals and ripped out explosives, we left behind big empty spaces and empty tubes. We filled the tubes in with some saline incase an injection was triggered, so it wouldn’t put air in your veins. We didn’t want to remove the tubes and risk bleeding since they go waaay up into your fleshy parts. Not worth the risk when they’re harmless now, right?”

Bucky nodded slowly, not seeming sure.

“Wrong, actually. Now we see one of the issues we didn’t see then,” Tony said. “The Frankenstein wiring job we did must be wearing and tearing without the people who did the original job doing tune-ups. I mean, you’ve been out of cryo since, like, March last year, right? I think that’s when I fixed you up. Anyway, that’s the longest this thing has gone on one trip. They might not have foreseen the issues it’s having since you were never awake for long. So with all that stuff getting a year-and-some’s worth of wear, something might have short-circuited or disconnected and triggered the injection sequence. It’s just saline, but you still would have felt it. A shock like that triggers Mr. Jekyll and…” he gestured vaguely at Steve.

Steve looked down at himself. He was wearing a cardigan; there was no way Tony would have known about the wrapped injuries hidden under his sleeves. “How’d you know?” he asked, finishing Bucky’s question from earlier. His hand subconsciously brushed his upper arm injury.

“JARVIS scans everyone,” Tony replied, jerking his chin towards the screen he’d been studying earlier. A closer inspection revealed a detailed scan of Bucky’s arm and an outline of both of them, Steve with his injuries lit up. Their heart rates blipped along at the bottom, Steve’s slightly elevated and Bucky’s pumping fast enough to be noticeable.

“Oh.” That was disconcerting.

“ I… thought I cut my hand,” Bucky said to Tony. “When it happened.”

“You could have interpreted the feeling as that, maybe,” Tony shrugged. “Kind of like phantom pain, maybe? Psychology is fascinating, isn’t it?” he added, rubbing his thumb over the seam again, this time with a wondering expression on his face.

“Sure. So… what now?” Bucky asked, shifting uncomfortably. Tony dropped his hand.

“We don’t want to risk this situation again, I assume?” he stepped back.

Bucky shook his head urgently, glancing at Steve.

“Then we have to get rid of the arm completely,” Tony said with a wince.

“C-com… Completely?” Bucky echoed. Steve felt his heart drop into his stomach and reached out for Bucky, picking between his shoulder blades to press a palm. Bucky flinched away from the contact, staggering closer to Tony. He licked his lips and opened his mouth twice before he spoke, his fingers going up to touch his shoulder. “You mean…?”

“I have to make a new one,” Tony said. His jaw was hard.

“Um… Coffee?” Bruce picked a good moment to come back with four steaming drinks in big mugs, standing awkwardly on the edge of the space.

“Perfect,” Tony said, clearing some tension with a clap of his hands.

Bruce set them down next to the spud gun without a word before he passed them out. When Bucky’s metal hand took his cup from Bruce’s, his whole arm was shaking, rattling against the ceramic.

“I thought tea would be better for you than coffee,” Bruce said gently, keeping his hand on the cup until the trembling subsided a bit. “It helps me.” Bucky’s lips twitched into a thankful smile and he nodded stiffly.

“Thanks,” he managed, putting his other hand under the mug to keep it steady.

“We could put racing stripes on this one,” Tony said thoughtfully, leaning against a toolbox. There was a slurping noise as he took a long sip from his mug. “Or groovy disco flowers. Half man- half Mystery Machine.”

Steve snorted at that, despite the sullen mood in the room, inhaling burning hot coffee and spilling half of it down his cardigan. He was overcome with an appreciation for Tony as he tried to stop choking. It took a special kind of guy to offer up humor at a time like this.

Bucky’s hand patting gently at his back was soothing and welcome. Bucky wasn’t smiling, but his mouth was relaxed and his posture had loosened a bit when Steve’s breathing had gone even again. His eyes were soft where they stared at Steve.

“Or… it could look like your other arm,” this suggestion was quiet. Tony shrugged and refused to look up from the very interesting black abyss of his coffee.

“I…” Bucky cleared his throat. He swallowed. “I think I’m used to it looking like this,” he said slowly.

“Very menacing. Good choice,” Tony agreed earnestly. “But, it won’t be exact. And…” he paused, considering his words, “it’ll take a while.”

“A while?” Steve echoed, staring at Tony over the rim of his cup. He took a long gulp and set it down by the spud gun. He hugged Bucky’s clothes to his chest.

“It’s a very complicated piece of equipment,” Tony equivocated.

“How long?” Bucky asked, looking up.

“I’m not actually all that great at the medical sciences,” Tony admitted, trying to force his voice to be soothing, “and this involves that. I don’t have much else going on at the moment other than possibly the A13 prototypes, though. My best guess is… two or three weeks?”

“That’s not too bad, right?” Steve asked Bucky. Bucky shrugged.

“Weeeeeeell,” Tony set his coffee down on the table at his hip. “The thing here is that I have to keep that,” he pointed at Bucky’s left, “for safety and measurement purposes. We’ll do the surgery to separate that monstrosity from his system, then he can heal while we make a less… intrusive prosthetic.”

“Do you have to…” Bucky swallowed, “take this part?” he rubbed at his shoulder where it joined to the main arm piece. Before, since it was just disarmament, Tony had only taken the arm to work on and left the metal, various connections, and ports closest to Bucky’s body where everything joined. Steve had no idea what his body looked like without the metal socket attached; how much actual bone and skin was underneath. Morbid curiosity fluttered in his thoughts before sympathy and horror at his own mind overtook it.

“Well yeah,” Tony grimaced. “That part is specifically designed for this arm. I don’t want to have to get _too_ specific here, but they really went mad-scientist on you with this thing. It’s a part of you. Integrated into your body. We’ll need to remove it and let you heal like a normal amputee, 100% organic and all that.”

“I-” Bucky was looking green.  His mouth opened silently and shut the same way a few times before staying shut. His lower lip was trembling.

“Buck?” Steve asked softly, going for physical contact again. He slid up next to him on the right, his shoulder brushing Bucky’s. Bucky took it this time, leaning heavily into Steve and letting him put an arm around his back. He was still staring down at his hand like he was going to vomit. Unknown thoughts were visibly flickering across his face, micro expressions coming and going like static.

“I haven’t ever… not had an arm,” he finally said.

“You’ll have one again in a couple weeks,” Tony repeated softly.

Bucky nodded stiffly with a deep breath. He licked his lips, squared his shoulders. His eyes were steely. He looked like he did when they were kids right before a fight he knew they were going to lose.

“When do you have to take it off?” his voice wasn’t strong, but it didn’t waver. He was betrayed by his own body as his fingers rattled against his cup again.

“I think I can have the doctors here by tomorrow morning; start the surgery at 9. We can have the arm off by noon,” Tony replied after clearing his throat, pulling his phone out of his back pocket.  His voice was falsely upbeat when he spoke. “You guys can stay the night, obviously. Your luggage should already be upstairs, knowing Pepper.”

Bucky nodded wordlessly. Steve could hear how uneven his breath was.

“Bruce, could you show them the guest room? The one with the big bed on the fourth? I need to clean this place up and go see my lady,” Tony turned back to his phone.

Bruce jumped a little at being addressed. He rolled his eyes and then nodded. “I guess, yeah.”

“Great. Well, uh, sleep tight, soldiers. JARVIS will wake you up. No more food or drink after nine, etcetera etcetera.”

“Goodnight, Tony,” Steve saluted him casually with two fingers.

The elevator ride up was silent and awkward again, with the added element of stuttering breaths and the occasional shaky sip of tea on Bucky’s part. He stood still, bare-chested and slouched, his hands wrapped around his mug like he wanted very much to fall into it. Bruce rocked back and forth from the balls of his feet as they went up, his gaze never once leaving the buttons.

Bruce took them back upstairs in much the same silent manner, all the way to the fourth floor and down a wide hallway to the room at the very end. He opened the door for them, always polite, and Steve let Bucky go in first, Bruce taking Bucky’s half-empty cup from him. The smile he sent to Bruce was melancholy as he went inside. Steve offered a smile that was only marginally happier, reaching for the doorknob.

Bruce surprised him by catching his sleeve and tugging before he could follow Bucky. He pulled Steve back from the door and shut it. He swallowed and raised his gaze to look Steve in the eye.

“Tell… tell Bucky,” he rubbed the back of his head, changed the grip on his mug, and sighed. “Tell him that I’m sor… no, no. Tell him… I feel- I mean… If he… needs, that is-”

“I’ll tell him, Bruce,” Steve assured him with a genuine smile, putting a hand to Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce smiled back thinly and patted the hand.

“Thanks. Have a good night, Steve,” he said. “If you need to change your bandages, there’s some gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” he looked pointedly at Steve’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Bruce. Sleep tight.”

Steve waved at him as he walked back down the hallway and let himself into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He turned to find Bucky sitting with his elbows on his knees at the edge of the bed. His head was down, face in his hands.

Steve sat beside him, pressing his thigh into Bucky’s without pretense. He slid an arm around his back, pulling him close and holding him there. He wrapped his other arm around the front, pressed that hand to Bucky’s neck, and buried his face in Bucky’s hair, closing his eyes. Bucky’s metal fingers came up to wrap around his forearm gently above the cuts. He took a long, wobbly breath.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> This just in; Bucky Barnes is tough as nails and refuses to be broken.
> 
> (Interpret the Pepper, Tony, and Bruce situation as you please. I have no preference and left it ambiguous for you.)


End file.
